


But Then I'd Have to Kill You

by priestlys



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Assassin AU, F/F, Gen, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priestlys/pseuds/priestlys
Summary: The first rule of murder for hire: Remain objective. Removed. Under no circumstances do you become attached to your target. But without even realizing it, Andy broke the rules.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt Game: Send me a pairing & an AU and I'll write a three sentence fic for it. Clearly, I'm not great at following the rules. [CrazyBeCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyBeCat/pseuds/CrazyBeCat) sent me the prompt "Mirandy, Assassin AU," and this is the result. I threw it all together very quickly and am posting it un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt Game: Send me a pairing & an AU and I'll write a three sentence fic for it. Clearly, I'm not great at following the rules. CrazyBeCat sent me the prompt "Mirandy, Assassin AU," and this is the result. I threw it all together very quickly and am posting it un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Prologue

_New York City. Autumn._

The first rule of murder for hire: Remain objective. Removed. Under no circumstances do you become attached to your target. Everyone knew that, Andy more than most—yet here she sat.

Miranda was on the phone, promising her daughters she would be home in time for dinner. Andy listened, absentmindedly fidgeting with a tiny vial under her desk, trying to muster up the courage to use it. She sighed, feeling sick to her stomach.

Nearly a year ago, Andy had managed to talk her way into a job as Miranda Priestly’s second assistant. Landing—and keeping—the job was integral to the operation. It was her in. She had walked in the door, all naive smiles and manufactured midwestern charm. When Miranda had tried to dismiss her, Andy briefly allowed the mask to slip and stood her ground. It had been enough.

For the first few months, Andy felt entirely too conspicuous. She didn’t fit in, and no one at Runway had any problem telling her as much. But eventually, she became sick of standing out, sick of the judgemental looks and thinly veiled jabs. So she assimilated, becoming one of the clackers (so named for the click of their stilettos on the marble flooring) she had so despised. It was all part of the plan—her ugly duckling to swan transformation—but once she had begun to fit in, she sometimes even forgot what her real job was. Andy excelled at her duties as a personal assistant, slowly gaining Miranda’s favor. The editor’s approval was both intoxicating and addictive. So, without even realizing it, Andy broke the rules.

The assassination, while intended as a long term operation, was meant to have been completed months ago. Her superiors were becoming impatient and Andy wasn’t sure how much longer her excuses would keep the hounds at bay. Backing out of the job wasn’t an option either, because as soon as she did they would simply send others, until someone succeeded where she had failed. Miranda would be in more danger than she was now, even with a trained assassin in her office. The irony of this fact was not lost on Andy. The only way to keep her safe would be to never let her out of Andy’s sight, and the likelihood of Miranda agreeing to such an arrangement was laughable.

“Andrea!”

Andy scrambled to slip the vial into the pocket of her blazer and rushed to the door of Miranda’s inner office. “Yes, Miranda?”

“Starbucks. We leave for the Rodarte showing in 15 minutes. Be ready. That’s all.”

Andy nodded resolutely and walked back to her desk, quickly grabbing her purse before rushing to the elevator. She whipped out her phone and speed dialed Starbucks to place a call ahead order. When the elevator finally arrived, Andy slammed the button for the ground floor. As soon as the metal doors closed, she rummaged through her purse and pulled out another phone, primitive compared to the one supplied by Runway. A man answered on the first ring.

“What’s up, kid? Is it done?”

“Not exactly,” Andy replied. She heard the man sigh. There was a long pause as Andy crossed the Elias-Clark lobby. “I need to know why.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“I need. To know. Why,” Andy repeated, through gritted teeth. She stepped out onto the pavement, walking briskly in the direction of the nearest Starbucks, allowing the sounds of New York City street traffic to drown out her next sentence. “I need to know why or I won’t do it. And don’t try to tell me you’ll have someone else do it, because you can’t. For one, I’m the only woman in the game that would be able to blend in at Runway. Two, it’s taken me nine months to get even remotely close enough to finish the job, and I’d wager your client isn’t so keen on waiting another year.”

The man began to reply but Andy cut him off. “Wait,” she hissed, followed by, “Thanks so much, Autumn, I appreciate it.”

Andy balanced the phone on her shoulder and picked up the drink holder, heading back out the door. “Okay, go.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking? In this line of work, you don’t get to ask questions. You do the job, then move on to the next.”

“Yeah, well. Not this time,” Andy countered. “So are you going to tell me? Or would you prefer to explain to your client that the job is going to be pushed back again to the tune of not weeks, but months?”

The man sighed again, more heavily than the last.

“You have three minutes. I’m almost back, and she’s waiting.” Elias-Clark came into view, and Andy watched Miranda’s town car pull up in front of the building. “Well?” she asked impatiently.

“It’s a higher up. He’s tried everything short of this to oust her, but apparently he’s getting pretty desperate.”

“Uh.” Realization dawned on Andy and she stopped in her tracks. _Irv fucking Ravitz_. “I gotta go.”

“What?”

“I said, I have to go,” Andy said tersely. “Some of us have jobs to do.” She ended the call without waiting for a reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic drew a ton of inspiration from the lesbian assassin novel [Requiem for Immortals](https://www.ylva-publishing.com/product/requiem-immortals-the-law-game-book-1-by-lee-winter/) by Lee Winter. If I hadn't read her book several months ago, I would not have been able to write this fic, so a special thanks to Lee!
> 
> Hopefully the completed fic will be up sooner rather than later, as I have 2-3 of the 5 or 6 planned chapters written. I decided not to write a backstory for this fic, because backstories are always what hold me up. Try not to overthink the logistics (because I know a lot of these concepts and situations aren’t necessarily plausible) and we should be fine, lmao.
> 
> If you noticed any errors I didn't catch or have constructive criticism you'd like to share, please let me know! Either leave a comment, or contact me via [tumblr ask](http://mirrens.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](www.twitter.com/tinyjanesloan) if you'd prefer to send feedback privately.


	2. Chapter 2

_Paris. One month later._

Andy had been given the same ultimatum by both of her employers. Go with Miranda to Paris, or lose her job. Both with entirely different motivations.

The knowledge that Irv had ordered the hit on Miranda made Andy’s blood boil. If he couldn’t fight his own battles without resorting to having his adversaries killed, he didn’t deserve to be the CEO of Elias-Clark, or any other company for that matter. Normally, Andy didn’t particularly care about the how or why of a job; she was known for her efficiency and discretion. But this job had ceased to be normal many months ago.

Initially, Andy was able to convince herself that her reluctance to complete the assassination was purely because the timing was never right. But as weeks turned into months, she found herself beginning to genuinely care about Miranda’s opinion of her. The earnest, eager to please facade ceased to be a facade. Even then, Andy refused to acknowledge her underlying feelings for--and attraction to--the editor. Feeling empathy for a target was bad enough, and whatever was developing inside of Andy far surpassed that.

Then came the ultimatums. The first had been relatively easy. Killing someone’s dreams was nothing compared to just, well...killing them. Emily was hurt and angry, but she’d get over it. The second ultimatum was trickier: If Miranda was still alive at the end of Paris Fashion Week, there would be hell to pay. And if she wasn’t, a different sort of hell. Andy was caught in a zero sum game.

Andy sighed, staring blankly out the window of the town car. She had never been to Paris, but was unable to enjoy it for a multitude of reasons. The lights blurred together as they passed. She watched, without really seeing.

 

* * *

 

“Andrea? I said we’re here.”

“Oh. Sorry, Miranda.” Andy quickly slid out of the back seat and headed for the front desk, pointing a bellhop towards the towncar as she passed. After securing their room keys, she returned to the car, opening the door for Miranda.

They boarded the elevator in silence, and Andy watched the buttons light up one at a time until they reached the penthouse suite. Miranda had dictated that Andy would stay in the smaller of the two available bedrooms, so that she would be nearby when needed. Each room had its own en suite, and they were on opposite sides of the common areas. This arrangement simultaneously calmed Andy and stressed her out.

On the one hand, the closer she was to Miranda the higher the likelihood that Andy would be able to keep her safe. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if her other boss had put another person on the job, and that person could be anyone. On the other hand, Andy was sharing a suite with a woman she was meant to murder but instead carried a torch for. The universe had one hell of a sense of humor.

Andy watched carefully as the bellboy unload their baggage, poised to go on the defense if he made any sudden moves. She momentarily wondered if she was being paranoid, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. The hotel would be an ideal place to mount an attack. At the fashion week events, attendance was somewhat curated. However, almost anyone could pose as a bellhop, and the cameras and security system of the old hotel were far from reliable. Andy had canvassed the hotel herself and knew the cameras could be disabled in minutes. And even though the penthouse had only one main entrance, it also had two private balconies and the outer walls of the building could be easily scaled if someone set their mind to it. Andy shoved a few bills into the bellhop’s hand and he let himself out.

The door to Miranda’s room was ajar, so Andy began moving her luggage from the sitting room. Light shone from under the bathroom door and Andy could hear the shower running beyond it. She blushed as her mind, unbidden, conjured up an image of what showering with Miranda would be like, and of all the things Andy could do to her in such a setting. She exhaled slowly and continued her task.

Andy was still in the process of hanging Miranda’s wardrobe in the large closet when the bathroom door opened suddenly. Startled, Andy’s head snapped around, revealing Miranda, wearing nothing but a towel.

“I uh. Sorry, Miranda. I was. I was just unpacking for you,” Andy stammered, her face hot. “I-I’ll come back.” She forced her eyes to stay on Miranda’s face and was shocked to find a sly, amused smile playing across the editor’s features.

“Is there a problem?” Miranda asked, shooting Andy a pointed look.

“Um. N-no, Miranda. No problem.”

“Good. Then finish hanging my clothes. We leave for dinner in an hour. Dress appropriately.”

Miranda crossed the room to the closet, lightly brushing Andy as she passed. At such a short distance Andy could smell a mix of skin care and hair products—no perfume yet, which actually made it better. Or if not better, certainly more distracting.

Andy froze, almost in a state of shock, staring at Miranda’s back and shoulders as she flipped through the items hanging in her closet. She finally settled on a sweeping emerald gown with a plunging back and neckline, snatched it from the closet, and brushed past Andy once again. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut finally prompted Andy to move. She quickly hung the rest of the outfits and retreated to her own room in a daze.

Andy slipped on a black dress that she hoped toed the line between casual and formal effectively enough. She affixed her hair into a messy updo and moved on to her makeup, nearly stabbing herself in the eye with a mascara wand when Miranda called out for her.

Andy padded across the thick sitting room carpet and halted in the doorway. Miranda was facing away from her, the entire expanse of her pale back exposed.

“Button me up.”

Andy gulped and crossed the room to Miranda’s vanity. She reached out and began trying to button the gown, but her hands were shaking badly and she could see Miranda’s cleavage in the mirror, making the task a struggle.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace,” Miranda deadpanned. “You know how that thrills me.”

“Sorry, Miranda.”

“For heaven’s sakes Andrea, stop apologizing for everything. It’s tedious.”

“Sor-,” Andy started to reply, but immediately clamped her mouth shut. She managed to steady her hands enough to slip all the tiny pearl buttons through their corresponding loops and stood back to survey her handiwork. “All done.”

“Thank you,” Miranda replied, without turning around.

“You’re...welcome.” Andy met Miranda’s eyes in the mirror and smiled politely. “I’m almost ready. Be done in less than ten.”

Miranda nodded curtly and Andy turned on her heel and left the room. She was practically giddy, making the trip back to her ensuite with an unmistakable spring in her step.

_Holy shit_ . _She actually thanked me_.

Andy pulled out the mascara wand for the second time that evening, noticing her goofy smile in the mirror. She knew her response to just two basic words from Miranda was completely ridiculous, but couldn’t find it within herself to stop smiling. She shook her head slowly in resignation, and finished her make-up.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic drew a ton of inspiration from the lesbian assassin novel [Requiem for Immortals](https://www.ylva-publishing.com/product/requiem-immortals-the-law-game-book-1-by-lee-winter/) by Lee Winter. If I hadn't read her book several months ago, I would not have been able to write this fic, so a special thanks to Lee!
> 
> Hopefully the completed fic will be up sooner rather than later, as I have 2-3 of the 5 or 6 planned chapters written. I decided not to write a backstory for this fic, because backstories are always what hold me up. Try not to overthink the logistics (because I know a lot of these concepts and situations aren’t necessarily plausible) and we should be fine, lmao.
> 
> If you noticed any errors I didn't catch or have constructive criticism you'd like to share, please let me know! Either leave a comment, or contact me via [tumblr ask](http://mirrens.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](www.twitter.com/tinyjanesloan) if you'd prefer to send feedback privately.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the delay! I'm not super confident about this chapter, but it was necessary to move the plot so I decided to go ahead and post it instead of agonizing over it any longer.

The room fell silent, as it always did when Miranda entered the room. All eyes were on the editor, and by virtue of that, her assistant. Andy followed Miranda into the venue, a few steps behind. This position allowed Andy to—quite literally—watch Miranda’s back. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by that same back, no matter how tempting the daydreams it evoked were.

After making their way around the room mingling, Miranda dismissed Andy from her post and took her seat at one of the tables. Andy headed directly for the bar.

“Six!” A familiar voice rang out above the dull roar. Nigel waved Andy over and patted the bar stool next to him.

“Hey,” Andy smiled. She ordered a glass of champagne and sat down.

“You two make an attractive couple, you know,” Nigel offered with a sly smile, causing Andy to nearly choke on her drink. “Ah, damn. I was hoping for a spit take.”

Andy shot her most vicious glare at him, but Nigel just laughed. “Please don’t tell me you actually think that’s intimidating.” Andy rolled her eyes.

“Relax, Six. I’m not going to tell her your secret.” Nigel smiled conspiratorially and took another sip of his drink.

“My _what_?” Andy stammered, her chest tightening. “What secret?”

“That you have a thing for her, of course,” Nigel chuckled and placed his hand on Andy’s arm. “It happens to the best of us.”

Andy let out a small sigh of relief. “Why, Nigel, I surely have no idea what you mean.” She batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

“You’re a terrible liar, you do know that, right?” Nigel laughed.

Andy shrugged, doing a quick scan of the room as she took another drink. No obvious threats, but that didn’t mean much. She had noticed a few non-uniformed security guards at a few exits when she and Miranda had entered the building, but again, nothing particularly reassuring.

“Hello, Nigel.” A smug looking man with a head of blonde curls approached them, nodding at Nigel in greeting before turning his attention to Andy. “And who might this exquisite creature be?”

“Christian,” Nigel answered with a tight smile. “Andy, this is Christian Thompson. Christian, Andrea Sachs. She’s Miranda’s newest assistant.”

Andy reached out for a hand shake, but instead, Christian grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Enchanté,” he smiled.

Andy shot Nigel an incredulous look, but he just shrugged apologetically. She barely managed to disguise her grimace. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson, but if you’ll excuse me, I really need to find my seat before they begin serving.” Andy nodded curtly, knocked back the remainder of her champagne, and headed out into the crowd.

* * *

 “How serendipitous.”

Andy’s head snapped around and she found herself once again face to face with Christian Thompson.

“Uh, what?”

Christian pulled out the chair next to Andy, smiling as he sat down. “It appears we’re table mates.”

Andy eyed him suspiciously. Her career had conditioned her to never accept events as coincidence without extensive proof, and the probability of a man she had only just met being placed next to her at dinner without an ulterior motive seemed low.

“Indeed it does,” Andy replied drily. She pointedly looked down at her phone, going over the week’s schedule. She’d already memorized it, but she sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever Don Juan shit Christian was trying to pull.

Throughout the meal, Christian talked almost non-stop. He made it a point to speak to everyone and by the time the main dish was served, he had the entire table in thrall. Andy kept a watchful eye on Miranda, smiling and nodding at the appropriate times while mostly ignoring the actual conversation.

“Isn’t that right, Andrea?” Christian eyed her expectantly.

“It’s Andy, actually,” Andy corrected. “Everyone calls me Andy.”

“Very well. Isn’t that right, _Andy_?” He wore the expression of a predator who had just ensnared his prey.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Thompson. I wasn’t paying attention. What was the question?” Andy smiled enigmatically.

“No matter,” Christian waved his hand dismissively. “It wasn’t important.”

Andy couldn’t yet place what about him set off alarm bells of distrust in her head, but there was definitely something. She began listening to what Christian said a bit more carefully and finally decided to go with her gut. When Christian excused himself to use the restroom, Andy knew she needed to act fast. She discreetly dug through her handbag until she located the small vial of GHB she always carried with her and waited until the rest of the table was engrossed in their own conversations before quickly dumping it into Christian’s champagne.

Christian returned to the table just as dessert was served.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Andy whispered sweetly, leaning in close to him.

“Oh?”

“I’m just jetlagged and cranky.” Andy offered an apologetic shrug.

“You know, I’ve heard champagne cures jet lag.” Christian swallowed the remainder of his glass in one go. “Shall I get us another?”

Andy was genuinely surprised he had taken her bait so quickly and unquestioningly, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She plastered on a bright smile. “Please do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic drew a ton of inspiration from the lesbian assassin novel [Requiem for Immortals](https://www.ylva-publishing.com/product/requiem-immortals-the-law-game-book-1-by-lee-winter/) by Lee Winter. If I hadn't read her book several months ago, I would not have been able to write this fic, so a special thanks to Lee!
> 
> If you noticed any errors I didn't catch or have constructive criticism you'd like to share, please let me know! Either leave a comment, or contact me via [tumblr ask](http://mirrens.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/tinyjanesloan) if you'd prefer to send feedback privately.
> 
> Hopefully the completed fic will be up sooner rather than later, as I have 2-3 of the 5 or 6 planned chapters written. I decided not to write a backstory for this fic, because backstories are always what hold me up. Try not to overthink the logistics (because I know a lot of these concepts and situations aren’t necessarily plausible) and we should be fine, lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Here's the next installment of the fic. Sorry for the delay, I've been busy with school.

The wind caused Andy’s hair to whip around wildly as she and Christian walked arm and arm down the street—in the direction of Christian’s hotel, she hoped. The further they walked, the more Christian leaned on Andy for support, and she smiled knowingly to herself.

“So, where are you staying?” Andy asked innocently as they rambled along. 

“It’s just up here,” Christian mumbled.

“Good,” Andy said purred, in direct contrast with her disgusted expression. “Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, Christian announced their arrival. Andy froze, immediately recognized it as the same hotel the Runway staff—and more importantly, Miranda—were staying at. Andy felt her stomach drop, realizing that she’d genuinely wished her instincts had been wrong, just this once. But they rarely, if ever, were, so she tried to focus on the silver lining: she had very likely identified the back-up assassin she’d known her organization would hire, and said assassin was now barely conscious, clinging desperately to Andy’s arm in an effort to stay upright. The elevator deposited them two floors below Miranda’s suite and Christian began ungracefully searching for the key.

“Let me get that for you,” Andy cooed, pulling Christian’s wallet from his left coat pocket and locating the key card. She opened the door, dragging Christian inside. 

“I’m going to freshen up.” Andy led him across the room and helped him lay down on the bed. “Why don’t you wait here for me?” 

Christian nodded weakly, turning over onto his side. Andy stepped out of his sightline and silently waited until the rise and fall of his chest slowed and loud snores filled the room. Rolling her eyes, Andy pulled her hair back with an elastic and began her search, beginning with the entryway closet. She methodically dug through Christian’s things, always returning them to the exact position she’d found them in. If Christian somehow turned out to be a civilian, his anger and annoyance was the last thing Andy wanted to deal with.

Andy found the burner phone hidden inside a rolled up pair of socks. She navigated to the text messages and had to stifle a snort. Andy couldn’t believe her luck; Christian was apparently so cocky that he didn’t even bother deleting his text messages. She scrolled through them and quickly recognized that they were obscured by the same code her agency used. Andy pieced together Christian’s plan for the hit, and felt dread building in her stomach. 

Resisting the urge to kill Christian in his sleep only because her fingerprints were all over the hotel room, Andy completed her search and contemplated her next move. If there was no immediate threat and Andy woke Miranda this late, she’d probably be on the next flight to New York. Christian would more than likely stay passed out until morning, so that threat was neutralized, at least temporarily. 

Using a washcloth, Andy gingerly removed Christian’s gun and silencer from their hiding place and shoved them, along with the burner phone, into her coat pocket. Grabbing the key card, Andy walked quietly down the hall and deposited the weapon into a discreet garbage shoot she’d noticed on their way to Christian’s suite. She almost threw the phone away as well but changed her mind at the last moment, deciding it could possibly be useful. 

Returning to the suite, Andy checked the time on the alarm clock beside the bed. Nearly 2 A.M. Andy estimated that with the cocktail of drugs she’d given him, Christian wouldn’t be awake until at least mid-morning, leaving him very little time to acquire a back-up gun or change his plan before the James Holt luncheon. However, Andy wasn’t the type to take chances, so, deciding to keep an eye on Christian, she laid down beside him, and waited.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update is so short, but we're coming to the end of the fic and I wanted to post what I'd written sooner rather than later since it's been so long since I updated. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!
> 
> If you noticed any errors I didn't catch or have constructive criticism you'd like to share, please let me know! Either leave a comment, or contact me via [tumblr ask](http://mirrens.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/tinyjanesloan) if you'd prefer to send feedback privately.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic drew a ton of inspiration from the lesbian assassin novel [Requiem for Immortals](https://www.ylva-publishing.com/product/requiem-immortals-the-law-game-book-1-by-lee-winter/) by Lee Winter. If I hadn't read her book several months ago, I would not have been able to write this fic, so a special thanks to Lee!
> 
> Hopefully the completed fic will be up sooner rather than later, as I have 2-3 of the 5 or 6 planned chapters written. I decided not to write a backstory for this fic, because backstories are always what hold me up. Try not to overthink the logistics (because I know a lot of these concepts and situations aren’t necessarily plausible) and we should be fine, lmao.
> 
> If you noticed any errors I didn't catch or have constructive criticism you'd like to share, please let me know! Either leave a comment, or contact me via [tumblr ask](https://mirrens.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinyjanesloan) if you'd prefer to send feedback privately.


End file.
